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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890304">La Touche-à-Tout</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_scrunch/pseuds/big_scrunch'>big_scrunch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jack of All Trades [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Reader-Insert, Tenth Class (Team Fortress 2)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:00:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_scrunch/pseuds/big_scrunch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you much of a dancer, Jacqueline?”<br/>“I wouldn’t remember,” you mumbled, pointing to your head.<br/>“Would you like to find out?”</p><p>(This is the Spy route that stems from the first part titled "Meet the Jack of All Trades".)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jack of All Trades [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>La Touche-à-Tout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The song I refer to can be listened to here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfiuaOWjEkI<br/>It's "La Plus Belle Pour Aller Danser" by Sylvie Vartan from her album <em>À Nashville</em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hell yeah, pally!” Scout cheered, offering you a high five outside respawn. You gladly accepted before being practically tackled by Pyro, who swept you up in yet another big hug.</p><p>“Th-thanks, buddy, but could you put me down?” They dropped you right away, which you did not expect, causing your knees to buckle and you to stumble backwards.</p><p>Two hands on your shoulder prevented you from falling. “Congratulations, mademoiselle, and thank you; we would currently be locked in a grueling stalemate without your assistance.” He rubbed a small circle on your back with his thumb as he helped you aright.</p><p>“Thanks, Spy. Maybe we should use that strategy even when I <em>don’t</em> lose to you in poker.”</p><p>“It would truly be a privilege; I look forward to our working together. In fact, if you could spare the time—”</p><p>“Absolutely!” You had hoped he would bring up his earlier request to spend time together. Even though he just wanted to learn how to impersonate you, you were eager to spend time with the mysterious Frenchman. He had a strange effect on you… when he was around you felt calmer, saner even.</p><p>His eyebrows shot up as though he wasn’t even expecting a yes, but he quickly regained his composure. “I was about to retire to my smoking room after changing into fresh clothes, if you wish to join me.”</p><p>You began walking away from the crowd with him, but Scout stopped you and whispered to you. “Jack come on, Soldier and Demo and I were gonna start a food fight!”</p><p>“Thanks Scout, but I’ve had enough fighting for today.”</p><p>“Oh, I see. You can play the long game, lure Spy into the cafeteria later, and then we can get him!”</p><p>“Scout, you are as cunning and quiet as a tornado siren,” Spy sighed, rolling his eyes, “But I assure you that if you get a spot of your prison food on my suit I will kill both of you and then myself.”</p><p>“Why are you so picky about your stupid suits?” Scout retorted, “A dozen of your dead bodies back at Badwater are wearing the exact same one right now. In fact, you got a ton of blood all over the one you’re in.”</p><p>“All the more reason for me to be on my way,” Spy said as he began walking down the hall without looking back, “I hope you have fun being bludgeoned to death with a loaf of stale bread.”</p><p>You caught up with him on the way back to the private quarters. “I cannot tell if you are a saint or a fool for being able to enjoy his company,” he grumbled.</p><p>His change in attitude caught you off-guard. “Oh, come on, Scout’s not that bad. Juvenile, cocky, sure, but he just seems…”</p><p>“Infuriating?”</p><p>“No, he seems… kind of…”</p><p>“Desperate?”</p><p>“Scared.” You had seen it in his eyes over and over on the battlefield. You had seen it when you tried to peel Soldier’s rabid raccoon off him and his introversion after you succeeded. You had seen it in his dramatic exaggerations of confidence when you first awoke. Perhaps he ran so fast for a reason.</p><p>There was a silence between you. “A saint, then.” His words hung heavy in the air. There was a guilt to them, and his eyes dipped to the floor before he remembered himself and looked straight ahead with a neutral face as though he hadn’t said anything.</p><p>You changed into a fresh outfit and straightened up your messy hair. You looked yourself over in the mirror for a moment, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skintight red sweater and adjusting your bulky camo cargo pants. Unfortunately, this outfit was all you had. The closet was filled with them, like you were a cartoon character that only ever wore one thing. Next to Spy, you felt rather… lowbrow. But it fit you well and accentuated your features nicely, not to mention it was easy to battle in.</p><p>There was a knock at your door and Spy greeted you, in a suit that was even more crisp and finely tailored suit than before. With a sarcastically dramatic flourish he offered you his arm, and in an equally sarcastic and dramatic gesture you linked yours with his. The fabric of his jacket with smooth and cool to the touch, but it was hard to keep a straight face with your arms wrapped in each other’s, even if it was at least half a joke. “Would you care for some lunch that is <em>not</em> from the aptly named mess hall?” Spy asked.</p><p>“Yes, thank you!”</p><p>“I was going to make <em>fettuccine aux champignons</em>, if you care for a plate. It is a fitting dish for today’s champions, no?”</p><p>“Oh you don’t— you don’t have to <em>make</em> me anything, I really don’t mind the cafeteria.”</p><p>“It is just as easy to make two plates as it is one, I assure you.” You stepped into his smoking room, which was rather dimly lit but very classy. There was a fireplace, a red armchair, a minibar, a small kitchenette, and a dining table with precisely pushed in seats that gave you the impression that it hadn’t been used in a while.</p><p>“In that case, yes please. And I could give you a hand if you want.” You didn’t know what ‘fettuccine aux champignons’ meant, but you didn’t want to seem uncultured by asking.</p><p>“Excellent. Could you put on a record while we cook?” He gestured to the minibar, which had a stylish engraved record player. You flipped through a shelf of albums, and your eye was caught by a cover with a young woman with big blonde hair looking over her shoulder. Her soft, distracted expression and the gap in her front teeth grabbed your attention, so you took out the record. You noticed that the album sleeve was <em>signed</em> with a short message. “<em>Si vous avez besoin de mon aide, vous savez où me trouver. Sylvie.”</em> You didn’t understand, but knew that if Spy had it signed then he must really like it. You placed the vinyl on the player and headed back over to Spy.</p><p>He had started boiling some water at the little kitchenette and turned in surprise as the song began. The singer’s smooth voice flowed over the French lyrics like a clear stream over rocks, playfully bouncing high on some notes. He seemed startled again before his surprise was washed away by a barely perceptible smile.</p><p>“How can I help?” you asked.</p><p>“Mince two cloves of garlic, s'il vous plaît.” Spy donned a crisp white apron while you took a bulb of garlic and began breaking it apart.</p><p>“So when did you get this record signed? There seems to be a personalized message on it.”</p><p>“Before I came here, I was hired to protect Sylvie Vartan from the KGB. She could handle herself, of course— her skill with a rocket launcher would put Soldier to shame— but she knew too much, and they spared no expense sending assassins after her.”</p><p>“Um… what?”</p><p>“Celebrities find the most bizarre ways of keeping themselves entertained. Could you put the garlic in the pan?”</p><p>You put the garlic in and Spy began cooking mushrooms*. “So, what is she saying?”</p><ul>
<li>(*If you're a coward who doesn't like mushrooms, you make chicken instead. But you don't know what you're missing!)</li>
</ul><p>“That this evening she will be <em>la plus belle pour aller danser</em>, the most beautiful dancer. Are you much of a dancer, Jacqueline?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t remember,” you mumbled, pointing to your head.</p><p>“Would you like to find out?” Without registering the smug playfulness on his face you nodded, and he moved his hand closer to yours then pulled back, gathering himself in some way. “If you do what comes naturally, your muscle memory should take over.”</p><p>You panicked. Disco? Cha Cha? The twist? The sprinkler? That wouldn’t be right. Was he asking what you thought he might be asking? “Do you mean, like… ballroom dances?”</p><p>“Yes, although I would not mind joining you in a Kazotsky Kick, but I do not believe it goes with the song,” he snickered.</p><p>Laughing half-mindedly under your breath, you tentatively raised a hand and Spy raised his to meet you; you put your other hand on his shoulder and he placed his under your arm. You watched, poorly feigning disinterest as he wrapped his hand around yours… Every point of contact with him buzzed with electricity.</p><p>With one foot you stepped back and to your left, flowing through the motions, and Spy was right there with you, staying within a few inches of you and matching your steps. You stepped forward and to the right, then completed the square again. Spy gently lifted your hand above your head to twirl you. You spun around giddily, his smooth gloved fingers gliding over your own in a way that somehow gave you a tingling feeling all the way down to your toes. When you faced him again, your hands were hooked around each other’s and Spy was looking at you with a fond softness in his eyes. The song fizzled to an end and he turned back to sautéing, his hand lingering in yours for an extra moment. “Ce soir, je serai la plus belle pour aller danser,” he sang quietly in the pause between songs, a smirk gracing his lips, “Pour mieux evincer toutes celles que tu as aimees…” The words were even more enchanting when they came from him. They were barely distinguishable but they were as they sounded; when Spy sang or even spoke in these calm tones between battles, his very voice was a dance.</p><p>“Perhaps you were a ballroom dancer before winding up here,” he commented as he poured white sauce over the mushrooms. “Would you strain the fettucine and add it?”</p><p>“Don’t flatter me, Spy,” you chided as you did so, “I just stepped in a box.”</p><p>“There are many impressive subtleties to your movement, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew how to step in a circle as well.”</p><p>“36.206675 degrees North,” the record player suddenly rattled off in a French accent, interrupting your laugh and causing you to jump, “86.691443 degrees West.”</p><p>“A message from Sylvie?” you asked as you smoothed your hair, pretending you weren’t startled.</p><p>“The coordinates of a safehouse where I can contact her.” Spy scooped the mushroom fettucine onto two plates and garnished them, and you sat while a new song began. “Bon appetit, mon amie,” he remarked as you raised his wine glass to you. You twirled some pasta onto your fork and hesitantly took a small bite. The sauce was light and creamy, but buttery enough to mesh beautifully with the soft noodles; the mushrooms were tender and hearty. Quickly you gathered another bite, then another and another.</p><p>“We work well together, do we not?” he asked smugly, making you feel a little self-conscious about your ravenous eating. But he took a bite and his eyes fluttered shut, the upturned corners of his mouth wholly sincere.</p><p>A small blush crept into your face and you looked back down at your plate. “Thank you, Spy. For the meal as well as your company.”</p><p>Spy cleared his throat. “No, Jacqueline,” he said in a higher pitch and without his usual accent. He paused, looking towards the ceiling as he ran some mental calculations. “The pleasure is mine,” he finished in a close impression of your voice.</p><p>“You got razer good at zat,” you said in your best French accent, trying to mask your surprise.</p><p>He laughed lightly, and a few moments passed before he spoke again, solemnly. “There is another reason I wanted to speak with you today.”</p><p>“Oh?” Your heart started racing.</p><p>“I know how badly it upsets you that you have no identity. I would like to offer my services in helping you find it again.”</p><p>“I… are you sure?”</p><p>“Of course, Jacqueline. Do you expect me to sit idly by as I hear you wake in horror every morning, not knowing who or where you are? You do not need to worry about any danger, I have done this already for Heavy and Scout without issue.”</p><p>“I don’t want to put you through the trouble—”</p><p>“No, mon amie, I insist. There is more to being a Spy than running around in the desert stabbing people in the back. If I were to let those skills rust, I would be no more than the accessory to a weapon.”</p><p>“Thank you, Spy,” you conceded. Relief washed over you. If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this, it was ironically the paid backstabber and double-crosser sitting across from you.</p><p>“I cannot wait to finally meet you, Jacqueline,” he said with a smile, glancing sideways at you over a sip of his wine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I chose mushroom fettuccine because it was the best meal I've ever had, it's French, and it can be vegan! <br/>Also I got big plans for this series &gt;:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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